o find that Dave had already left ahead of him. Dan
followed to their quarters in Bancroft Hall, to find Dave pacing
the floor, the picture of despair.

"Dan!" cried Darrin sharply. "This letter is from Dick. He doesn't
play this year!"

"Don't tell me anything funny, like that, when I've got a cracked
lip," remonstrated Midshipman Dalzell.

"Dick doesn't play, I tell you---which means that Greg won't,
either. A lot of boobs at the Military Academy have sent Dick
to Coventry for something that he didn't do. Dan, I don't care
a hang about playing this year---we can't beat Prescott and Holmes,
for they won't be there!"

CHAPTER IV

DAVE'S WORK GOES STALE

"Aye, you're not---not joking?" demanded Dan Dalzell half piteously.

"Do you see any signs of mirth in my face?" demanded Dave Darrin
indignantly.

Rap-tap! Right after the summons Midshipman Farley and Page entered
the room.

"Say, who's dead?" blurted out Farley, struck by the looks of
consternation on the faces of their hosts.

"Tell him, Dave," urged Dan.

"Prescott and Holmes won't play on this year's Army team," stated
Darrin.

"Whoop!" yelled Farley gleefully. "And that was what you're looking
so mighty solemn about? Cheer up, boy! It's good news."

"Great!" seconded Midshipman Page with enthusiasm.

"I tell you, fellows," spoke Dave solemnly, "it takes all the joy
out of the Army-Navy game."

"Since when did winning kill joy?" demanded Farley aghast. "Why,
with Prescott and Holmes out of it the Navy will get a fit of
crowing that will last until after Christmas!"

"It makes the victory too cheap," contended Darrin.

"A victory is a victory," quoth Midshipman Page, "and the only
fellow who can feel cheap about it is the fellow who doesn't win.
Cheer up, Davy. It's all well enough to wallop a stray college,
here and there, but the one victory that sinks in deep and does
our hearts good is the one we carry away from the Army. Whoop!
I could cry for joy."

"But why won't Prescott and Holmes play this year?" asked Farley,
his face radiant with the satisfaction that the news had given him.

"Because the corps has sent Prescott to Coventry for something that
I'm certain the dear old fellow never did," Darrin replied.

"Lucky accident!" muttered Farley.

"But the corps will repent, when they find their football hope
gone," predicted Page, his face losing much of its hitherto joyous
expression.

"No! No such luck," rej